


Invisible

by ant5b



Series: Making Up for Lost Time [3]
Category: DuckTales (Cartoon 2017)
Genre: Give me Webby and Scrooge interactions or give me death, Pre-Canon, The Living Mummies of Toth-Ra
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-06
Updated: 2018-05-06
Packaged: 2019-05-03 06:00:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14562420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ant5b/pseuds/ant5b
Summary: For years Scrooge was like a phantom in his own home, in Webby’s own life, lingering in the corner of her eye and vanishing when she turned to look.





	Invisible

Webby was used to Scrooge looking through her. 

For years he was like a phantom in his own home, in Webby’s own life, lingering in the corner of her eye and vanishing when she turned to look. Her earliest memory of Scrooge was when she was five years old, and finally allowed to explore outside their wing of the mansion, provided she didn’t touch anything. 

She was pretending to be a spy like her granny, ducking under furniture and hiding behind large ornate vases. It had been the early days of her training, when Beakley was still teaching her how to run and hide effectively. The deeper Webby ventured into the mansion, the more stuff there was to hide behind; glass cases holding spearheads as long as her arm, old crumbling maps and glittering gemstones, objects that could only come from the pages of a storybook. 

In her excitement, she somersaulted around a corner without properly checking her surroundings. She collided against someone’s legs, and fell onto her back. 

Webby looked up to find the man whose portraits filled the mansion. 

Only he wasn’t daring and bright like the portraits depicted him. Rather, he seemed faded, like an old photograph. His feathers were mussed and his eyes were blank. 

“Watch your step,” Scrooge McDuck said, before walking around her, his cane thudding dully on the carpet. He didn’t help her up. 

  
  


 

“Webby!” Scrooge cried, and if she didn’t know any better she’d say he sounded relieved.

She stepped away from Toth-ra’s throne, patting dust out of her skirt. “Hey, Mr. McDuck,” Webby replied, an echo of their exchange when Scrooge first stormed into the pharaoh's chamber. 

Something landed on her head, and she looked up in surprise as Scrooge straightened her pith helmet again. “Stick with us next time, aye, lass?” he said with a crooked smile. “We might’ve avoided all this prophecy business.” 

Webby flushed, ducking her head. Of course, as the one with the most training it was her responsibility to keep an eye on the triplets, inexperienced as they were. And instead she’d let one of them enact an ancient curse. 

“Sorry, Mr. McDuck,” Webby said, clasping her hands behind her back so he wouldn’t see her anxious fidgeting. 

Scrooge looked down at her quizzically. “Sorry for what, Webbigail?”

Webby kept her eyes on his spats, unwilling to see Scrooge’s expression. She imagined it was either disappointed or indifferent, and she didn’t know which would be worse. 

“For letting Louie put himself in danger,” Webby explained, hoping Scrooge would accept her apology and drop the matter. She could see that Huey and Dewey had dragged Louie into a celebratory group hug, which she really wanted to join. 

But then Scrooge was kneeling in front of her, and he tilted her chin up so she had to look him in the eyes. 

“Aren’t ye going to apologize for putting  _ yourself  _ in danger?” he asked, sounding amused. 

Webby didn’t know how to respond to that. “I’m...sorry?” 

Scrooge was just watching her, his brow slightly furrowed. He’d been doing that more often. Watching her. Like she might disappear if he looked away for too long. 

“You’re alright though, Webbigail?” Scrooge asked, looking her over as if he could divine her injuries from a glance. “Nothing broken?”

After a moment of hesitation, Webby pulled her arm out from behind her back. The side of her right hand was scraped red and raw, and her was pinkie swollen and stiff. 

As Scrooge sucked in air through his teeth, Webby explained. “This was from when Louie and I ducked into a secret passageway to avoid getting thrown into the Pit of Eternal Screams.”

“Horus, I’ll be needing extra bandages!” Scrooge barked to one of the jackal mummies still tending to their comrades’ injuries. He turned back to Webby with a long-suffering sigh. “You kids will be the death of me.”

Before Webby could haltingly apologize again, Scrooge was guiding her down with a hand on her shoulder, until she was sitting on the stone steps leading up to the throne. 

Horus arrived with bandages, before going back to tend to the other mummies. 

“Are you in much pain, lass?” Scrooge asked, carefully taking her injured hand in his. 

Webby guessed she had a proximal phalanx fracture, judging by how fiercely it ached. But she’d suffered worse injuries during training, usually on her own, and she took care of them on her own. 

Before she could insist she was fine, Scrooge was uncapping his water canteen and tipping it out over her hand. He washed away all the dirt and dust that he could, before giving her hand a moment to dry off. 

“I remember you used to love sliding down the banisters,” Scrooge said, apropos of nothing. He unraveled a length of bandage, and began immobilizing her pinkie by wrapping together her pinkie and the finger beside it. “Gave me a scare every time. I was sure you’d crack your head one day, but I dinnae think you ever fell off.” 

“You remember that?” Webby asked in a small voice, as Scrooge began bandaging the rest of her hand. 

“Course I remember,” Scrooge replied. “Your gran would’ve flayed me alive if you’d gotten yourself hurt on my watch.”

She could’t help the laughter that bubbled in her chest, and she was emboldened by the answering smile on Scrooge’s beak. 

“There, how’s that, Webbigail?” Scrooge asked, letting go of her bandaged hand. “Not too tight?”

Webby moved her hand around experimentally, careful not to jostle her splinted fingers. She’d be stuck making the Vulcan salute for a few days, but the bandages were fine for all that. 

“Not too tight,” she confirmed. 

“Good,” Scrooge said, gently clutching her shoulder. “Now, Webby, dear, in the future I’ll be expecting you to  _ tell  _ me when you get hurt. No more of this playacting, are we clear?”

Scrooge was looking at her intently, waiting for her answer, and Webby’s heart lodged in her throat. She reminded herself that he didn't care. Not really. And that was fine. 

Carefully cradling her injured hand, she nodded. 

“C-clear, Mr. McDuck,” she said. 

Scrooge seemed to wince. His smile was slow to return, but it still comforted Webby with its warmth. 

“Good to hear, Ms. Vanderquack.” 

 

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> If you liked this, feel free to check out my other DT 17 fics!


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